


True North

by Corvidology



Series: Collection of POI fic by Draycevixen [55]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Chocolate Box Exchange 2018, Chocolate Box Treat, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-17 16:26:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13662792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvidology/pseuds/Corvidology
Summary: Warning for a very, very brief moment of attempted rape."I'm sorry it took this long to find you, John."





	True North

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rudigersmooch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rudigersmooch/gifts).



He hadn't done any real work with a set of pliers and a blow torch since his days with Stanton but once he got out of this, Derek Spencer was going to be sorry he'd ever set eyes on him. 

He tugged at the shackles again which were bolted to the floor and ceiling and holding him spread-eagled. There still wasn't any give in them and Spencer's men he'd long since nicknamed Dumb and Dumber didn't even turn to look at him. 

"Why does he still have his clothes on? Must I do everything myself?" 

_Spencer._ The little weasel had come in from the warehouse office carrying a large leather duffle bag. 

At Spencer's words, Dumber had moved closer to John, reaching for the shackle at his wrist. 

"Stop." Spencer moved closer. "You saw what he did to Baker in the alley. Don't untie him, just cut his clothes off him." 

Dumber flicked open a switchblade and made a quick job of cutting his jacket and shirt off him, the blade only catching his arm once. 

Meanwhile, Spencer was pulling a riding crop out of the leather bag.

He was furious. It was the suit Harold had hand tailored for him. 

"And the rest of it." 

Dumber hesitated only for a moment, obviously catching a glimmer of what Spencer might be planning, before shrugging and making short work of John's pants and briefs, leaving him standing naked except for his socks and shoes. 

At least his feet wouldn't get cold. 

"Check his shackles are still tight and then go look for his mousy partner and take care of him."

John pulled helplessly against the shackles again. Unlike Dumber, he knew for certain where this was going already knowing far too much about Spencer's tastes, but Harold's safety was all that mattered.

"I'm going to enjoy this."

John was going to make sure he did. 

 

Spencer had whipped him until his arm grew tired and then unzipped his pants, moving in close to press his crotch against the welts he'd left across John's ass. He could see Spencer's every move clearly in the angled mirrors he'd obviously designed to make sure his victims didn't miss a single detail. Spencer was stepping back a little to work his pants down further, when the basement door swung open with enough force to strike the wall behind it. 

"Bear! Aanval!"

At Harold's command, Bear launched himself, taking a large chunk out of Spencer's naked ass. As Spencer fell screaming to the floor, Harold got close enough to Taser him for much longer than the recommended time, leaving Spencer twitching as his blood puddled on the floor. 

Meanwhile Bear had trotted round to press himself lightly against John's hip before spitting the chunk of Spencer's ass out on the ground.

"Good boy," John whispered. 

Bear grinned up at him. 

"I'm sorry it took this long to find you, Mr. Reese." Harold took the keys down off the hook where they'd been deliberately set so John could see them all the time and unshackled him. John staggered a little before catching himself on one of the wooden supports. 

Harold hovered, obviously uncertain of how to proceed without injuring John further. 

"...coat." 

Harold immediately stripped off his overcoat and helped John to put it on, wincing almost as much as John did as the material came into contact with his back. It was too short for him but at least he was no longer exposed. 

"Lean on me and we'll get you out of here, John."

He stood up straight, glad to note his unsteadiness was more due to muscles complaining at being spread-eagled for so long and not as the result of any real damage. He'd be able to lean on Harold without putting too much weight on him. He slung an arm across Finch's shoulders and they went slowly up the stairs. 

Finch conducted a one-sided conversation all the way up the stairs, out of the building and into his waiting car. "... And that's how I found you." Finch fastened his safety belt. "The nearest hospital—"

"No hospital," he croaked. 

"What happened to your voice?"

"Been screaming."

"That's it, we're going—"

"Home, Finch." He acted like he was going to open the car door again although he really wasn't sure he could get back out without help. 

Finch muttered something under his breath that wasn't at all complimentary, but took him home. 

 

The first thing he wanted was a shower. Harold followed him like he intended to help but he waved him off and instead Harold opened his laptop and settled in at the table to wait. 

His skin was smarting, not least because of the antibiotic soap that was a necessary staple in his shower but twenty minutes later he felt almost human again and slipped on a soft t-shirt and sweatpants before padding barefoot to the table. 

Harold had dragged out the first aid kit, several bottles of water and antibiotic tablets. 

He swallowed the tablets and chugged a couple of bottles of water before whispering his thanks.

"Are you sure you don't need a hospital? Even for you, that's not much of a voice."

He drank some more water before speaking slowly and quietly. "Spies have to be good actors and know how to give the freaks what they want. If you scream a lot they like it – think they're really damaging you. The welts look angry but he didn't really break the skin." He slipped his t-shirt off and turned so Harold could see his back. "Just dab some antiseptic on them. I'll be fine."

Harold's hands were incredibly gentle as he did as asked. Luckily, Harold mistook his shivering at his longed for touch as it being painful. 

He was overcome with the same urge he always had, the urge to touch back but even if he should be lucky enough to have Harold return his feelings he never wanted to contaminate him. 

"I'll call Fusco later. Spencer's not going anywhere and if he's badly hurt, so be it."

Perhaps he already had. He was stunned Harold was capable of not only thinking such a thing but being OK with it. He wanted Harold's affection so badly but not at such a high cost.

"Call him now, Finch."

"No. You're not the only one who can be stubborn. Spencer can rot for all I care."

"But you should, you’re the moral compass in this partnership." He just managed to stop himself from taking Harold's hand. "And I'm not worth you losing your direction."

He read Harold's face, read his anger but didn’t understand it. 

“But you’re my true north, John.” Harold cupped his face in both hands and kissed him like he was going away to war. 

Harold leaned back sharply, pure astonishment on his face. "I shouldn't have done that, John. You're vulnerable and—"

He kissed Harold like he might not make it back. "You should do it a lot more and keep doing it."

John stood and held out his hand and Harold took it, following as John led him to his bed. 

“But your back—“

“Isn’t up to much yet but stay with me. Let's get naked and neck.”

Harold quirked an eyebrow but began to undo his tie.

 

No one called Fusco.

 

.


End file.
